


Father, Why Have You Forsaken Me?

by kaffeogte



Category: OTGW, Over the Garden Wall, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: :), ?? - Freeform, Dark, Don't Like Don't Read, Gen, I highly suggest listening to Kaizers Orchestra, M/M, Multi, NO HAPPY ENDINGS HERE KIDS, Religion, Whelp, a fuckton of it, and maybe classical music, i honestly do not know what I am doing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-06-07 07:50:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6795481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaffeogte/pseuds/kaffeogte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Quickly made an 8Track playlist to listen to while you all read :) If the link does not work, the title is the same as the fic's name.</p><p>http://8tracks.com/jenkat147/father-why-have-you-forsaken-me</p></blockquote>





	1. Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quickly made an 8Track playlist to listen to while you all read :) If the link does not work, the title is the same as the fic's name.
> 
> http://8tracks.com/jenkat147/father-why-have-you-forsaken-me

They separated after a fight broke between the two. Things were said that shouldn’t have been said and before either of them knew it, Greg ran off into the woods and wouldn’t respond to any of Wirt’s pleas and apologies. Normally, their little quarrels wouldn’t get between them like this, but there is always that one thing you do not bring up with people in any argument. For some people it’s their flaws, the meaningless politics, redundant religion, their past mistakes, and so on, but for Wirt and Greg, it was family- their parents to be more exact. Greg may be happy with his new family, but Wirt was still rather upset over the big change. So when one thing went to another, Wirt had blurted out his annoyance, masked as untrue hatred, at Greg and his father and how he wished their parents never met and such.

After failing to rouse any response from Greg for over an hour, a scream cuts through the forest’s quiet.

“Wirt!” Greg’s voice pierces through the crowd of trees. “Wirt, where are you?” he sobs loudly from somewhere unknown to Wirt, “Help me!”

“Greg! Greg, just stay put, I’ll find you!” Wirt shouts back as he searched relentlessly for his dear brother.

“Be strong, be courageous,” Wirt murmured to himself repeatedly as he wandered through the forest. “Be strong, be courageous…” It was a phrase his mother would always quote from the Bible and taught Wirt to do the same whenever he felt afraid.

Hours passed with no progress of finding his brother. They called for each other relentlessly, but when Wirt tried to ask Greg what was going on, he never got an answer.

“Fear not,” a deep voice purrs from the shadows, drowning out Greg’s cries, causing Wirt to become pale and covered in goosebumps.

“Be strong, be courageous,” Wirt continues to anxiously chant, walking quicker now through the endless woods.

“Forget the former things,” the voice continues on calmly as the dark of the forest began to close in. “Cast aside your burdens and let me sustain you. Rest.”

“No, I have to find Greg!... I-I can’t breathe,” Wirt panted as the darkness wrapped itself around him, “I c-can’t see!”

“Worry not, my child, let me be your guide,” the voice cooed.


	2. What Have I Done?

Greg’s scream is the first thing Wirt hears as he slowly returns to consciousness. Then he sees. In his hand, a bloodied ax; on the ground, is Greg, just barely clinging to life as black floods from his body. 

Wirt’s eyes snap open, his mind at full alert. “O-Oh no! Greg, what have I done?” Wirt cried, sinking onto his knees, to hold Greg’s dying body close.

“I-it wasn’t you, W-Wirt..” Greg coughed. He knew that even it was Wirt’s body performing the action, it wasn’t his beloved big brother- it was something inside him.

“No, Greg, I did this,” he sobbed, “A-and now you’re going to die h-here because of me…”

“It’s okay, Wirt. I-I like it here, we had a fun adventure,” he smiled softly, his eyes looking right into Wirt’s with such kind understanding that Greg must be an angel. “I love you, Wirt,” he says weakly.

“I-I love you, too, Greg. I didn’t mean those things I said earlier… I’m so sorry…” he whimpered, holding Greg close, gently rocking and caressing his little brother until his beautiful eyes lost the last of their light…

“Collect the oil,” the deep voice of the Beast commands, dropping his empty lantern beside Wirt. “Hurry,” he says in such a tone that showed he was not about to put up with any disobedience. 

Though teary-eyed and still shocked, the calm of the Beast’s voice was comforting in an indescribable way. Taking but a few seconds to remember the reason behind the lantern and oil, that it would keep Wirt and Greg together. Wirt eagerly did as told in a desperate attempt to somewhat save his little brother from the unknown...


	3. You Belong to Me

“How tragic,” the Beast tsked as the edelwood began to bury Greg within itself. He turned to Wirt, whose eyes were blank and dull as he held the lit lantern to his body. “You realise what this means, don’t you?” the Beast says to which Wirt responded with a slight nod. “Today, you have been given the choice between life and death, between blessings and curses. Now, you’ve made the decision, and now you belong to me and to the forest- in exchange for keeping your brother by your side- forever,” he said rather sternly. 

The truth slowly settled into Wirt with every word the Beast spoke and somehow grew even more ghastly. “I- I don’t feel so good..” He murmured, trying to stand to distance himself from the Beast, but only falling back down from how badly his body trembled.

“Rest, Wirt. You’ve done the right thing. Worry not, for the emptiness you feel within will soon be filled,” the Beast cooed as Wirt slowly lost consciousness, overwhelmed.

When Wirt awoke, he was in a house. He was lying on a soft couch by a warm fire that felt awfully nice. He heard soft weeping from somewhere in the room, but was too exhausted to even stay awake. 

Around his second time of waking up, Wirt forced himself to sit upright. He needed water. After a quick look around, he found out he was in the Woodsman’s house. “Uh, hello?” Wirt called awkwardly.

“Wirt...,” the Woodsman murmured sombrely, walking down the stairs. “You’ve slept for a quite a while,” he pointed out the obvious with a cough, sounding a little envious. Around his eyes were dark grey bags and he appeared quite pale and ill. 

“Yeah…,” he replied, looking around for the lantern now that his mind was a bit more awake. “How did I get here?” he asked.

“You were in my yard- alone,” he answered, a tone of disappointment seeping into his voice as he began to glare, “with the lantern.”

“N-no,” Wirt murmured, soon covering his mouth as he looked for the nearest bathroom. He rushed to the toilet and vomited black, and as if this wasn’t bad enough… When Wirt looked into the mirror after washing out the vile taste at the sink, his eyes were like the Beast’s: iridescent, rainbowed, and ugly. Wirt screamed, terrified of what he saw in the mirror. He picked up the mirror, violently smashing it down in the kitchen as he cried in horror of his reality. The Woodsman watched from the entryway of the kitchen, letting Wirt getting his emotions out. Eventually, Wirt was on the floor, sobbing into his hands so much that his tears puddled on the floor.

His actions were dirty. 

His appearance is hideous. 

His soul is impure. 

His being is damned.


	4. Comfort

“Wirt…” the Woodsman started just as Wirt seemed to be calming down. He kneeled by Wirt, his hand gently squeezing his shoulder. “What’s been done, is done… And nothing in the world can change that… I see you’ve gotten involved with the Beast; I’m sorry such a thing has happened to you and your brother, but know I am here for you. I am your friend, Wirt,” the Woodsman murmured.

“I-I don’t know what to do… He’s gone, Greg’s gone,” Wirt said, mostly to himself. 

“The Beast will guide you. Trust in him and he shall guide you,” the Woodsman said, gently rubbing Wirt’s back.

Wirt pulled away from the Woodsman’s touch. “What? No. How could you say that?” he replied in confusion.

“The Beast will explain. You were not ready yet, too unwilling, but now you can become a perfect apostle. You’ll see, he will fill your emptiness with his light,” the Woodsman murmured, now caressing Wirt’s face to gaze into his mesmerising eyes. For a moment, Wirt could’ve swore that the Woodsman’s eyes held the same iridescence

“Y-you really think so?” Wirt asked, desperate for any comfort- even if it were from the Beast. He needed someone- or something- to believe in… 

The Woodsman nodded softly. “I know so. I kept your lantern lit while you were asleep. I kept it by mine upstairs, I’ll bring it down to you and you can be on your way, if that’s what you’d like,” he suggested.

Wirt nodded in reply. “Yes, please. I need some fresh air, like a walk alone,” he requested shyly. “I’m sorry I broke your mirror…” he adds, suddenly remembering the debris digging into his hands. 

“No worries, it’s replaceable,” the man reminded, soon heading up to retrieve the lantern. “Best wishes, Wirt, and remember you’re always welcome here,” the Woodsman kindly added before letting Wirt be on his way.


	5. Together Yet Apart

et Apart

“Greg… Greg are you there?” Wirt murmured quietly to the lantern, sitting against a tree in the middle of the vast woods.

No reply.

“Greg, please. If you’re there, please say something,” Wirt begs, feeling tears well-up in his eyes again.

“Please, don’t cry, Wirt,” a quiet, familiar voice responds as Wirt feels a hand on his knee.

“Greg… Oh, thank god, you are still with me,” Wirt says, looking up to see his little brother. He sets aside the lantern and tugs Greg to himself in a tight hug. “I thought I was never going to see you again, I-I thought the Beast was lying,” he sobbed.

“Wirt, it’s okay, I’m not going anywhere,” Greg promised, softly caressing his big brother in attempt to comfort him. 

Wirt’s head quickly came up with many questions to ask, yet one seemed most imperative. He took a calming breath and wiped his tears away, forcing himself to stop crying. “How?” was all he could manage to say.

“I rejected the light so I can stay here with you, Wirt,” Greg confesses.

“What? Greg, no! You idiot, we have to get you to the other side somehow… M-maybe the Beast will know how to?” He began to mumble worriedly.

“Wirt, stop. I’m staying here with you. I didn’t want to be alone, and I didn’t want to leave you alone…,” Greg says, and in all honesty, Wirt didn’t want that either.

“... I’m so sorry you’re stuck here… It’s all my fault,” Wirt sighs, running his fingers through Greg’s hair, still trying to convince himself that he was real.

Greg shook his head. “Stop apologising, dummy, or I’ll go back into the lantern,” He said light-heartedly. 

Wirt smiled softly at his brother’s joking tone. “No, how about we go on a walk, instead. Maybe we can find Jason Funderburker, I’m sure he misses you, too,” Wirt suggested, standing up. Greg seemed to have this odd, confused look in his eyes as he looked up at Wirt. “Are you okay?” Wirt asked with a hint of his infinite worry seeping into his voice..

“What? Yeah! Let’s go find Jason Funderburker,” Greg grinned, snapping out of whatever trance had captured him. 

The boys held hands as they walked through the woods. They tried to rouse conversations, like the fun ones they used to have, but few lasted very long. Wirt was grateful for how understanding Greg was, yet he couldn’t unsee his brother’s last moments nor how he now seemed… disturbed...


	6. Orientation

“Wirt, I’m tired,” Greg murmured as they walked around with Jason Funderburker hopping alongside them since Greg couldn’t pick him up any longer. They’d found him resting in the mud, and after some coaxing, he willingly joined them again, but he was distant and wary of Wirt.

Wirt glanced at the lantern- it’s flame was running low. “Can you get back into the lantern?” he asked, growing anxious over the flame going out soon, “I think you being out here uses up the oil quicker.”

“But I don’t wanna go back in there, it’s lonely,” Greg whimpered, stopping in his tracks along with the frog who made a disgruntled croak. It wasn’t the best place to spend eternity in, and it was bad enough that Greg was leashed to it for just as long. It was great to be with his brother, but now his freedom was much more limited.

“Please, Greg? I need to find some oil, and if I have to run, I don’t want you getting dragged in the dirt by the lantern,” he pleads, opening the little window for Greg to return. “You can come back out after a quick nap, okay?” Wirt assures, unsure if ghosts even needed sleep.

“... Fine, but you better not lose Jason Funderburker again,” Greg pouted.

“I don’t think he likes me very much, Greg. I’m sure he’ll still be around here when we come back, so say goodbye for now,” Wirt suggested, noticing how the frog frowned at the thought of Wirt picking him up and Wirt just was not in the mood to be fighting with a frog.

Greg sighed. “Alright… Goodbye, Jason Funderburker. We’ll be back soon, okay? Be good,” he whimpered, giving Jason a hug and receiving another croak in reply. Greg soon stood back up and reluctantly reached out to the lantern, soon becoming one with its light once more and retreating inside to its flame.

Wirt closed the window with a saddened sigh; now he was alone again. He awkwardly said goodbye to Jason Funderburker who continued to glare at Wirt, and soon he was on his way to the old mill where the Woodsman kept his oil.

“Fuck,” Wirt grumbled as he realised the forest darkening around him again while he walked.

“Such a rude way to greet your saviour,” the Beast chastised.

“Saviour?” Wirt scoffed, “It’s because of you that I’m in this mess!”

“Is that so? Then tell me, Wirt, who was the one holding the ax over Greg’s dying body. Was it me?” the Beast inquired as Wirt nervously bit at his lip, looking at the ground in shame. “That’s what I thought. Despite all of your sins, Wirt, despite all of the times you’ve refused me, I am still here, helping you, guiding you,” he reminds. “So, how about we practise being a bit respectful, or next time you may not get oil in time,” the Beast threatened, tossing Wirt a little bottle of black.

Wirt scrambled to catch the bottle desperately. The lantern was almost completely out, and if it wasn’t for the Beast, it wasn’t going to make it to the mill. “T-thank you,” he replied shyly now that the flame was burning healthily again.

“I will not let you or your brother perish, Wirt,” the beast promised, “Now, follow me.” With that, the Beast’s shadowy form began to move through the woods, and Wirt found himself following.

After a few minutes of walking in silence, the Beast stopped in front of a reddish tree and dropped an ax in front of it. “Chop down the edelwood, Wirt,” he commanded, stepping aside for the boy.

“Isn’t… Isn’t that somebody’s… No, I can’t do this, Beast,” Wirt pleaded, beginning to tremor nervously.

“Yes, you can,” the Beast said in a stern tone. “How else do you think you’re going to keep the lantern running? How else will you keep your brother alive?” the Beast reminded, “Pick up the ax, Wirt.”

Wirt set down his lantern and picked up the ax, his gaze switching between the Beast and the little tree. “This is wrong, Beast… Please, don’t make me do this,” Wirt whimpered.

“Wirt,” the Beast started again, but this time in such a smooth, deep tone that Wirt couldn’t help but begin to feel calm as he spoke. “Trust in the me with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to me, and I will make your paths straight, Wirt. Let me be your god and I will provide you with everything you need,” the Beast coos. “All I ask of you is to do as I say, and cut down the edelwood tree,” he said.

As the Beast spoke, something changed in Wirt’s eyes. The colours became more lively, more hungry to please the Beast. He felt drugged, as if he’d been put under a spell- yet for some reason, Wirt didn’t care at that moment. “As you wish,” he complied with a slight bow. He raised the ax above his head and soon landed it in the tree’s flesh, causing the lost soul to scream in ear-splitting agony; yet it had no effect on Wirt nor the Beast.


	7. Good Boy

The Beast was overcome with satisfaction as he watched his little monster slaughter the soul and drain it of its essence. The Beast always adored the appearance of the ruined souls. The average soul is a milky white, practically glowing and radiating a warm energy. A ruined soul is dark and murky. It is heavy and sad; you almost wish to weep for it, to feel guilt and remorse, yet such feelings never touched the Beast for he was named this for such a reason. No rational being would be as heartless as him, and now as horrid as his new henchman, Wirt.

“Very good, Wirt,” The Beast cooed, his usually monotone voice showing the slightest bit of approval.

Wirt smiled softly, refilling Greg’s lantern. “Did I do well?” he asked, wiping off some of the ‘oil’ that had ended up on his face.

“Extremely. You almost deserve a treat,” the Beast played, his smooth, edelwood fingers reaching out to caress the back of Wirt’s neck from behind him. “Tell me, my child. What do you desire?” He asked. After all, humans can be driven to be ever so obedient by punishments and rewards, and Wirt had definitely earned himself a reward.

This surprised Wirt, a shiver running up his back. “I… I don’t know,” he admitted, feeling heat rise to his cheeks.

“Are you saying that you don’t want anything? Power, wealth, a home… Nothing?” he queried. He even offered Wirt those suggestions, yet still only received a shy shake of the head. “That so?” The Beast tsked, “Fine, then I will allow you to think this one over, but I do expect a more readied answer next time. Understood?”

Wirt nodded, feeling guilty for displeasing the Beast- and disgusted from how compliant and willing he was, but he just felt too helpless to not obey. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know what to do. Wirt just couldn’t be the independent adult Greg needed, and now with Greg dead, what else could he do?

Satisfied, the Beast withdrew from the scene, his cold, dark presence receding in pursuit of their next victim.

Now alone, Wirt’s senses were now fully restored, and he was immediately bombarded with the feelings that the Beast had somehow numbed when he was here. ‘How did he do that?’ Wirt worriedly thought to himself, soon mumbling to himself that, “I-I can’t let that happen again. I can’t believe I just did that. Oh my god, I’m such a terrible person, I’m going to hell, I’m going to hell!” He felt completely overwhelmed and helpless again, desperate for anything that would make him feel okay.

He wanted the Beast.


	8. A Craving

“Wirt, what’s wrong?” Greg yawned, trying to rub the sleepiness out of his eyes.

“Nothing,” Wirt lied, sitting at the base of a tree as he continued to stare off into space.

“Liar. You’re doing that thing again,” Greg persisted, sitting down in front of Wirt and waving his hands to get the other’s attention.

Wirt sighed and looked down at the other. “What thing?” he asked with a yawn, feeling sleepy himself now that he’s finally had the chance to sleep.

Greg frowned. “You’re spacing out and not being honest with me,” he murmured, getting a little distracted himself by the harsh howl of the wind warning them of an incoming storm. “Aren’t you cold?” he asked curiously, himself immune to the elements.

“Hm? Oh, I guess I am,” Wirt said, finally snapping back to reality as he realised his fingers were slightly blue from being so cold. “But, there’s nowhere I can stay, I think I’ll just sleep here,” he confessed, not wanting to inconvenience anyone.

“Wirt,” Greg whined, “You gotta take better care of yourself- and that’s not a rock fact.” He was seriously concerned over his older brother who seemed hopelessly lost in this world. “Maybe you could stay with Beatrice or the Woodsman,” he suggested.

Wirt considered it a moment, he was going to need to refill Greg on oil soon; perhaps the Woodsman still had some. “No,” he shook his head. “Let’s just find a shed or something, there’s plenty of abandoned buildings around here,” he reminded, getting up and picking up Greg’s lantern. Greg nodded and quietly followed, keeping his worries silent for now. Wirt couldn’t help but feel weak and dizzy. He blamed it on the lack of sleep, but knew it was from not eating or drinking.

Finally finding something by Pottsville, Wirt placed Greg’s lantern on the table before going to the water pump for a fresh glassful for himself. When he returned, there was a bottle of the black oil Wirt needed on the table where he left Greg. 

“Greg, did someone come in here?” Wirt asked as he walked back into the room, lightly inspecting it for anyone or signs of an intruder.

Greg shook his head. “No, sir, all clear, sir,” he playfully responded, playing with Jason Funderburker on the bed. 

Wirt chewed worriedly on his lip, but eventually had to let it go and refill Greg’s lantern. He did find the little house appealing, perhaps if the villagers still liked him enough (even after the rumours of what’s happened to him have reached here), they’ll let him live here. “Greg, I’m going to go on a walk. If anything goes wrong, just go into the lantern, okay?” he requested, putting back on his cloak before heading out after receiving a distracted nod of agreement from Greg.

Wirt left, walking through the woods in an attempt to clear his thoughts. Whatever the Beast had done to his head earlier, Wirt missed it, desperately. He scratched at his arms as he thought, hardly realising the action he was performing until he looked down at his fingers that were lightly coated in blood. “Crap...” he murmured quietly to himself, despite slightly enjoying how it felt after the pain set in.

“My henchman shouldn’t be doing such things to himself,” the Beast tsked, his voice sounding from the darkness that the storm has brought.

“B-Beast!” Wirt exclaimed in surprise. “Beast, I know what I want as my reward!” he desperately called out, ignoring the scolding he’d just received.

The Beast chuckled quietly to himself at his eager little worker. “Oh? And, what would that be, my child?” he replied, his voice low and confident as always.

“Whatever you did to me earlier, what you did to my head. It… It felt so good. Whatever it was, I need it, please,” he begged, sounding a little lost in his own thoughts again.

“You have asked and I shall deliver,” the Beast calmly replied, coming up behind Wirt and covering Wirt’s eyes with his rough hands. He felt how the boy shook with fear and uncertainty, and it was amusing. The Beast stifled a chuckle and leaned in close to whisper to the other. “Fear not, for I am with you,” he promised as the ‘drug’ began to set into Wirt, slowly calming him, “Be not dismayed, for I am your god. I will strengthen you. Yes, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous hand.”


	9. Aftermath

Wirt awoke on the forest-floor, chilled to the bone and covered in the morning frost. He sat up, struggling to call to mind the night before. When he could, Wirt was overwhelmed with disgust and regret. He knew he couldn’t trust the Beast, but Wirt needed the comfort that radiated in every word that the Beast purred. Although, what could he have expected? Some friendly, helping hand? The Beast is the embodiment of despair and death itself, not to be trusted no matter the circumstances… Yet, he somehow turns his disgusting self into something not only charming and desirable, but there’s a comfort in his deep, foreboding voice. He lurks, waiting for when his victims are at their most vulnerable then he’ll draw near, whispering poison until his prey is drunk on it, as if it is some numbing anesthetic to every undesirable feeling… As if he has enough mercy to dull the senses of his prey before making his kill.

 

Wirt soon jolted out of his daze, getting up and trying to dust off the dew before heading back to the shack he’d left Greg in. “Greg!” he called as he entered their temporary home. While his ghostly presence wasn’t there, the lantern was there and well lit, which meant that Gregory was alright. Sometimes, Wirt had difficulty differentiating between what was real or not. His mind frequently became foggy and he’d become just barely aware of what was happening- especially when he was either with the Beast or doing his dirty deeds. “Greg,” he called more softly, “Please, come out. I’m sorry for being out all night…”

 

“I was afraid you weren’t going to come back…” replied Greg from the lantern’s flame, his voice so quiet and frail one could hardly tell it were real itself. 

 

“No, Greg, I would never,” Wirt assured, walking toward the lantern, picking it up and cradling it in his lap as he sat in the old, wooden chair. “Did something happen while I was gone? Did anyone come in here?” he asked with a hint of worry in his voice.

 

A few moments of silence passed, but Wirt waited patiently. He may have become a monster to everyone else, but he wanted to remain as much of a good brother to Greg as much as possible. After those few minutes, Greg appeared on Wirt’s lap. Even though it wasn’t necessary to, Wirt didn’t like being reminded of why Greg was so translucent, so he moved the lamp out of the way so he could see his precious little brother with as little obstacles as possible.

 

“No… Nothing happened… I was just lonely and worried about you…” he lied, avoiding Wirt’s gaze. In truth, a townsperson had walked into their shed of a home and upon seeing the cursed, well-known lamp, had ran away screaming at the sight. “Why’re you so dirty and beaten up?” He asked curiously, “Did the Beast…?” Gregory didn’t have the heart to finish the question, so he left the rest to imagination.

 

“Hm? Oh, I hadn’t realised anything,” Wirt answered honestly, going to find a mirror. “Oh god,” he gasped quietly in surprise. Not only did he notice that those branch-like anomalies had grown significantly from his head since he’d last checked, but under his eyes were deep blues and purples- the same blotches were apparently scattered throughout his body when he checked. On his back was a disturbing maroon pattern, similar to what you find on people where their blood has rested after death. “Well, I-I guess this is why you’re not supposed to get lost in the woods…” he chuckled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone has realised the hints of what's happened in the 'real' world to them now ;3c


End file.
